The Price of Honor
by FlarnChef
Summary: A group created ATC for Kitty's Rebellion, written five of so years ago.  No copyright infringement intended, just sharing the love of GUNSMOKE.


**The Price of Honor**

Missing Moment to Kitty's Rebellion

By Bratina Wurst (aka, cazh, flarnchef , orkey)

Tears, anything but tears, he thought as he watched her reflection mirrored in the glass behind the bar. This woman, brash and self-assured was crying. That didn't happen often. Hell, he couldn't really remember the last time he had seen her cry. He would rather face her anger than her vulnerability.

He had watched the show she'd put on. She demeaned herself by telling half of Dodge City that she "had no honor to defend, that everyone already knew all there was to know about Kitty Russell." She was right, all of Dodge did know Kitty Russell, but he knew that Billy Chrit didn't know a damn thing about that woman.

He wanted to take her in his arms and reassure her that she was the most honorable, most noble person he knew, but she had written this script and acted it out, and the eyes watching it unfold wouldn't allow him to give that basic creature comfort. So he did the only thing he could.

He had time to catch Billy Chrit before he boarded the stage and he was going to make sure that the immature youngster understood the truth of what really happened. The truth about Kitty Russell.

He caught sight of the dandy with his foot on the first step of the stagecoach.

"Hold up there," his rich baritone echoed through the street.

Billy's back stiffened at the words and he slowly turned to face the Marshal.

"Sir, I haven't anything further to discuss with you."

"I think you do." Matt called up to the stagecoach driver, Jim, "hold the stage for a minute. I need a word with this boy."

"Sure thing, Marshal," Jim replied as he readjusted the assortment of carpetbags and small chests on the top of the stage.

"I am most ready to take leave of Dodge City, Marshal Dillon, so if you don't mind."

"I do mind." Grabbing the boy by his stiff white collar, Matt propelled him down the boardwalk to the alley, Billy holding his fancy white hat on his head and sputtering his indignation the whole way.

"Marshal, this is uncalled for!" Billy raised his voice in a failed attempt to match the barely disguised anger in Matt's tone.

Dillon released his hold on the boy and Billy straightened his crumpled jacket and righted his tie. The lawman stood only inches from him, knowing he looked much like a gigantic vulture anticipating a savory meal, or, in this case, like a stern teacher minus the board of education.

"Son, you've got a lot to learn. You go around spouting off about honor and you don't have a clue what honor really is. And I'm gonna tell you something, boy…"

"Sir, please refrain from calling me boy! Is everyone here a Neanderthal? And might I add I am far from being a boy. I've been traveling on my own for three months."

"Fine." Matt's frustration showing in that one abbreviated word. "Do you have any idea what just happened back there?"

"I believe I do, Marshal. Miss Russell has been masquerading as a woman of class; sister Lucy would be appalled! Why she's nothing more than a common…"

Dillon stopped the young man in mid sentence with a hard poke of his finger to the silken fabric of the boy's shirt. "I'm gonna tell you something and you're gonna listen. There is nothing common about Kitty Russell. You need to grow up and because of what she just did, you actually have that chance."

"What she did? She mocked me and all that was respectable about her life in New Orleans."

Matt pushed his Stetson back on his head giving Billy the opportunity to see fully his rigid face as he placed one hand on the wall near the youth's head. "Let me tell you about honor, it is here in the west, and you just witnessed it. Honor doesn't have anything to do with manners and big words or calling a man out. There's no honor in getting yourself shot. Honor is about doing the right thing even when it hurts like hell, and sonny," he emphasized the word with a poke sharp enough to make the boy wince, "that's what Kitty did."

"Where is the honor in Miss Russell throwing herself at that filthy cowhand?" Chrit exclaimed in disgust, "Where is the honor in taking money from drunks and gamblers?"

Matt shook his head. "You just don't get it, do you? She coulda let you die; she coulda let those cowhands do ya. You didn't stand a chance; you just wouldn't listen to her. You had to keep pushing. You forced her hand."

"Sir, I forced Miss Russell to do nothing!"

"You did. You forced her to act like something she's not. That wasn't Kitty you saw back there."

For once Billy gave no retort, he simply stared at the man towering over him.

"Your right, Kitty isn't the same woman you remember from New Orleans. She's actually better. And let me tell you something, she's got more integrity in her little finger than you have in your whole body. If you do some growing up you'll realize that."

Matt took two steps back and allowed the young man to escape. "Now get back on that stage and when you tell Lucy about Kitty, get the story straight."

Billy passed Matt with a slight nod of his head and a simple "Marshal." The swagger was gone and he held his hat in his hands as he slowly made his way back to the stage. Matt watched as the youth cast one last glance toward the Long Branch before stepping inside the coach.

Following behind, Matt gave a quick wave to Jim and the stage began its journey west. He took a deep breath and turned toward the Long Branch. Confronting this wet behind the ears boy was easy; trying to mend the broken spirit of the woman he loved was quite anything but.

He paused at the batwing doors, his hands resting on top of the smooth curves. Normal sounds emanated from the room as if nothing unusual had just occurred. Searching the room he found Kitty at her customary spot at the side bar, seemingly making amends with Tal. She looked up and Matt held her eyes for a brief moment. A bittersweet smile tugged at the corners of her lips. Outwardly she looked fine but he knew her well enough to know the truth. He gave her a nod and went about his business knowing they would talk about Billy Chrit later, without the eyes of Dodge on them.

The only light in the room had been the one in the window. It was his welcome in the darkness of the night, a beacon that announced to him and him alone, that Kitty Russell was expecting his company.

He entered her room and allowed his eyes to adjust to the subtle light. "Kitty?" He whispered.

"Here, Matt."

Her soft voice called to him and following the sound, he could make out her form on the other side of the room. Half of her was engulfed in shadows; the other bathed in a soft light. She leaned against the mantle of the cold fireplace, her face cast down and a glass of brandy clutched in her hand.

"Kitty, are you alright?"

"Can I get you a drink Matt?" was her evasive reply.

"Sounds good. I'll get it myself." He crossed the room and poured himself a brandy and then sat on the settee. He wanted to pull her into his arms. "I, I uh… put Billy on the stage."

Waiting on her response he was surprised to get none. She seemed lost in thought, slowly swirling the brandy in her glass. He tried another tactic. "Sorry it's so late."

Finally she raised her eyes to his, and a small smile cracked her lips, "No later than usual, cowboy."

"So, Kitty, are you alright?" He was encouraged by her small attempt at humor.

Looking back into the amber liquid she shrugged. "Never been better."

Matt could hear the sarcasm in her voice; see the slumped set of her shoulders that disproved her words. Everything about her denied she was alright. "Kitty."

"Don't, Matt." She quickly turned her back to him.

It wasn't soon enough. He saw the pain in her eyes reflected in the dim light.

"I can't… just don't."

"You saved his life Kitty, you did the right thing." He stood, taking a few tentative steps toward her. "I know it wasn't easy."

"Right there in front of you, Doc and Dodge City. It was my finest moment." The sarcasm dripped from her words.

Two steps brought him to her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her so that she faced him. He placed his fingers under her chin and raised her face to meet his. "Yes, it was. You saved Billy's life. You never hesitated for a second."

Turning her face away, she bit her lip and moaned, "I am so sorry you had to witness that, Matt."

"Sorry for what? You helped that boy; you got him out of here alive. You have nothing to be sorry for."

"Oh Matt," she released a shuddered breath, shaking her head woefully, "you don't understand."

Kitty began to move away but he caught her free wrist. He'd do anything to keep her from distancing herself from him. He watched as she tossed back the last of her drink, expelled a deep sigh, and stared at the ceiling. Her labored breathing was magnified by the silence in the darkened room.

"Honey, you came to me for help and the only help I gave was telling you not to baby him. I'm the sorry one. Maybe the next part of his travels will shake some sense into him."

Easing her wrist from his grasp, Kitty entwined her small, delicate fingers into his hand and gave him a squeeze. Matt was reveling in the fact that they were joined physically, even if it was only by holding each other's hand.

Still not facing him, she spoke hesitantly, "Matt..um..did you try shaking some sense into him?"

Matt simply looked at her, he didn't deny intervening, but he didn't admit it either.

The prolonged silence that followed was too much for Kitty. She faced her lover. "You did, didn't you?"

He avoided answering afraid he would inflict more hurt on an already raw spirit. He felt responsible for what happened; he was the one who let her down. He was the one who compelled her to belittle herself for the sake of a human life. He wasn't proud of it.

"Oh Matt..." Her tone was weak, but filled with thankfulness and chagrin.

Matt led her gently to the settee, and pulled her onto his lap. Never a man at ease with words, he had learned to convey his comfort to her with his actions. Softly he rubbed her back, guiding her head to his shoulder with his free hand. Soft, even strokes up and down her silk clad back, accompanied by soft kisses atop her head, soothed and began to heal them both.

She moved through the Long Branch filled with boisterous patrons and walked Front Street, amongst Dodge City's gossipy citizens, as if nothing had happened. It would take time for her to recover. But she would. Kitty Russell had strength and perseverance to go along with all that integrity of hers.

Four months had passed since the ugly episode she shared with Billy Chrit. Early one morning, he stopped while making his early rounds and gazed over the batwing doors of the Long Branch to find the beautiful redhead seated at one of the back tables. There was a cup of coffee on the table in front of her, as well as a glass of whiskey. She appeared deep in thought, fingering a small envelope.

"Hey." He murmured quietly, hoping not to surprise her.

She looked up, startled. It took a lot for Kitty Russell to miss the distinctive sound of his step as he made his way across her gritty saloon floor. But to be so lost in her thoughts to be oblivious to his nearness was unusual.

"Matt?" She whispered with a confused breathlessness.

"You got coffee and whiskey," he grinned, hoping to put her at ease, "that's an odd combination for this time of the morning."

"Sit down, Matt. You want coffee or whiskey?"

It was a challenge he saw coming from those bright sapphire eyes of hers.

"I don't know yet. Who's the letter from?"

She fondled the edges of it and turned it over twice before speaking. "Lucy Chrit."

"I'll have the whiskey."

"Freddy," she called to the lean bartender, "bring the marshal a cup of coffee and a glass of whiskey."

"You gonna open that letter or just keep wishing it would go away?"

Kitty wasn't a timid woman. Usually. She fought her battles head on so this behavior, this apprehension, was disconcerting to him.

Two distinct kinds of liquid appeared in front of Matt: one, steaming and black as coal, but comforting while the other, amber and cold, had the kick of an angry mule.

"I'm glad you're here with me, Matt."

The eyes that looked into his now were sad, fearful. "I don't know what's in this, is she gonna disown me, run me down, tell me what a bad person I turned out to be?"

Matt put his right hand on her forearm and squeezed. "Go ahead. You're not alone with this."

He watched her fortify herself with a stealing breath and a sip of whiskey. She slid the slender letter opener inside the flap of the sandy brown envelope to slice it open in one graceful move. Her thumb and forefinger reached in and pulled out a single folded sheet of paper. The writing, in a fine black hand, was graced with flourishes.

_Dear Kitty,_

_I wish to thank you for showing Billy a good time in Dodge City. He has nothing but fond memories of the time you spent together talking of old times in New Orleans. _

_Billy tells me that you are a successful business woman and count the local physician, a US marshal and many of the local business owners as your friends. I am so proud of you, Kitty. Billy can't seem to explain what type of business you are in, so I am guessing it is something that women find more fascinating than men. _

Matt watcher her ruby painted lips part in surprise.

"He didn't… oh, Matt." The relief was evident in her sparkling eyes.

Matt was relieved as well. He wouldn't have to pick up the pieces of her spirit and mend them together as he had four months ago.

"He learned something, Kitty. And you still got a friend in New Orleans."

She released a deep breathy chuckle. "You did good, cowboy." And then with dead pan honesty said as she squeezed his forearm, "Thanks for your help, Matt."

She lifted her cup of coffee to toast the marshal.

Mirroring her gesture, he lifted his coffee cup and chinked it against hers. "We did good. Together." He offered her a warm smile, his crystal blue eyes brimming with pride.


End file.
